The Infamous Basement
by harponMOO
Summary: England's Dungeon..  Plot? What Plot? A series of one shots, requests taken. Review mine I'll review yours O.O  Now including fail humour!
1. Chapter 1

**England's Sex Dungeon**

**So…didn't find one on this site.**

**Oh com'on, (heh heh come…)**

**Don't judge me. This was inevitable. **

**TRANSLATIONS(according to google and my half semester of Spanish) **

**Lo siento: I'm Sorry **

**Si: Yes**

**Estoy muy confundido: I am very confused**

**Salvame: Save Me**

**I tried **_**something**_** with history…okay I skimmed the wikipedia page and thought back a couple years of social studies class. But it went down the drain the moment Arthur picked up the leather bound book. Maybe it was gone before that O_o**

**Review mine I'll review yours ^^**

**My first attempt at posting smut.**

A thin finger traced along a shivering stomach.

"Wh-wha-"

"Oh, you're awake how lovely…" The owner to the active digit hummed, still focusing on the billboard of smooth skin in front of him.

"Wh-why?" The recipient of the touches squirmed

"Because I want you," he leaned in now, nibbling a lightly tanned ear.

"Estoy muy confundido…"

"I'll elaborate. _I want you_ turned around, on all fours, spreading your legs,"Arthur Kirkland commanded.

The baffled glint in the guest's eyes turned knowingly as he began to strip off his clothes.

"How long has it been?" England asked as he looked for his box that contained lubrication.

"Oh, a good five days," The Spaniard sighed, that meant more prepping.

"Well, we better go downstairs then."

The tanned man gulped, he hadn't gone down there yet.

They made there way down carpeted steps, and England felt along the walls so as not to trip, and lit a few candles once he was in the main room.

It was fairly big, almost double the size of his master bedroom, the plush footing ended and now the floors were a hard wood. The walls were a steel grey, and to accompany that colour, many metal objects lay around, from handcuffs to chains to leashes.

"Up against the wall." England resumed the role of the leader.

"Yes, _senor_"

"No, we aren't playing that game now. Just go."

Spain hurried to said wall, and found that there were straps to place his arms and legs in, but he need help after binding his legs and left limb.

England walked up, laughing.

"You look pitiful," the man had bruised lips already, and his white collar shirt was rumbled and unbutton at the bottom, his slacks looked much to small as he became aware of a new problem, and his right arm dangled lamely.

"Lo siento."

"You should be." Then Arthur ripped of his prisoner's shirt, the buttons shattering and he held the two pieces of cheap fabric triumphantly.

Antonio just quivered. Okay, maybe their _love _making wasn't always so _loving_ but Arthur never ripped and teared and commanded unless they were playing **the** game, and they weren't playing it now.

He bounded the remaining arm and looked up at the stretched man happily.

Now he went to the pants, sliding them down curvy hips and then ripping those off as well.

His hand instantly found Spain's problem smearing the cum that had collected at the top and pumped it to the brink of satisfaction then left, making sure to blow out the candles on his way upstairs.

First Arthur made some tea, then drank it slowly trying not to burn his tongue, waiting to hear the screams.

He hadn't yet, and picked up a leather bound classic and flipped to a page and began reading.

It was before Tink drank the poison and after Peter saved Tiger Lily that he heard the cry of help.

"Salvame! Salvame! Lo siento! Lo siento!" He closed his book and his eyes, letting the pleas for help and apologies drift him off to sleep.

England woke up with a crick in his back and a damper in his mood considering he couldn't hear any noise from the basement, but as he made his way down the stairs, he could just make out a soft sniffling.

"Lo siento! Salvame!" The words were quiet and hoarse.

Arthur almost felt bad.

"How have you been?"

"I have not been well."

"Well, I can fix that," Arthur closed the distance now, pushing there lips together and making sure to grind his hips hard into Antonio, delighting in the groans it caused him.

"You just make it worst," he panted after Arthur lifted himself off of him. He felt like he was going to die and struggled against the metal, only succeeding in drawing blood from his wrists and ankles.

England ignored his endeavours and walked away to grab a bottle, and when he returned he undid the straps.

"Are you okay?"

"Si, gracias," Spain rubbed his wrists, and then just stood awkwardly, waiting for the other man to lead.

Arthur just smiled, letting Antonia adjust to the lights, the feel of his feet on the ground, and his arms being able to move.

After about one minute of that pleasant waiting Arthur pushed him down, letting him hit the hard wood.

He scrambled on top of him, slicking up his member as he did this.

"You are wet," Arthur said as he ran his finger across the top of Spain's erection, then let his fingers trail down and find a little hole, dripping with the pre-cum from up north on his body.

"Si."

"Good," Arthur skipped formalities and let two fingers slid in, stretching and spreading and not aiming at all.

"Maldito…" Antonia cursed and felt tears welling up in his dark green eyes.

Arthur kind of, sort of, maybe, felt bad.

So he pushed farther, searching this time and finding.

He watched Spain's face flush and then go white, ghostly white as he hit it again and again, the sweat appeared on his forehead and Arthur decided it was time.

The fingers slid out with soundlessly, and he pushed himself in with one thrust.

He didn't really use a rhythm, just fast, and hard, and the slaps of skin hitting skin mixed with the sounds of cries and yelps and moans.

"More..please," Antonio panted after a couple spot on thrust.

And England slid out.

"Wha-"

Then Arthur flipped him around, prompting him to rest his weight on all fours, leaning on his elbows and knees.

And after that Arthur entered him again, this time stroking the tip of Antonio's member.

England released first, and his fingers left their position as he slipped out of Spain's abused hole and laid down.

After a whimper Spain stroked himself to release and sighed, joined Arthur on the floor.

"Well, my back feels better." England smiled.

**So..leave a comment if you want to see a certain character in here…I prefer yaoi, but eh, beggars aren't choosers and I guess this is begging…cue the puppy dog eyes Alfred! **

**See a mistake? Tell me!**

**See OOCness? Tell me!**

**Hated it and what me to crawl back into whatever country bumpkin town I came from? Tell me!**

**Killed your grandpa and ate his liver? Well..I'd prefer if you didn't tell me that…**

**harponMOO is out :D**

**PS**

**NEXT TIME ON ENGLAND'S SEX DUNGEON: WE MEET A VERY PERVERTED FRENCH MAN..oh hon hon hon hon hon **


	2. Chapter 2

**England's Sex Dungeon**

**wahoo! comments! I got them! /dances around a bit\\**

**Do you know what this calls for? **

**Fluff? No**

**Love? No**

**Cupcakes? …possibly…**

**Another chapter? Hell to the ya broski!**

**WARNING: THIS GETS VIOLENT AND WUHEERD (weird)**

**At the time this was written I had 69 visitors to this story..just sayin'**

If you were a secluded castle hunter, you might've laid your eyes on the place England called home. If not, you most likely have never even heard of the shell keep style castle hidden between lush forests and crystal clear rivers.

Just kidding, this isn't some freaking fairy tale.

Most trees were cut down to make room for the noisy neighbours and the books they read and the napkins they clean up with.

And the river? Well it was so polluted it ran brown and sometimes Arthur wondered if he could just set fire to all the pieces of trash and watch it burn*.

Arthur wasn't outside now contemplating the career of an arsonist.

He was inside, in a special room he kept for when he was in the mood for certain things, or certain people.

But he was alone now, he had been for a while. However that didn't mean he wasn't having fun.

"F-huh-uck," his pants where around his ankles and he was leaning against the cool metallic wall, his hand furiously stroking and pumping.

Just to the brink, but he could never find release thanks to the band around his member.

"Well z'at just seems torturous Angleterre."

England jumped, removing his hand and looking away guiltily.

"Why the hell are you here Frog?"

"I am simply visiting, you can go back to what you were doing," The Frenchman looked onwards eagerly, but England just stared back.

That lasted for about a minute, before England was much closer, and much quieter.

"I think you need to get the bloody hell out of my home."

"But why can we not work together, Europe used to be so good at teamwork…" Francis moved his hands lower, towards the danger zone of Arthur's body.

"I'd never team up with a Frog!"

"But don't you z'ust love the creatures? Or only the _magical_ kind," it was the creepiest referral to his belief in faeries and unicorns and such that Arthur Kirkland had ever received.

"Please just…" Arthur bit his lip as the Frenchman's hand moved fast against him.

'I should've put my pants back on,' he mentally cursed himself for the stupidity, but just waited pleasantly for his hand job to be finished, still biting his lip and struggling to remain passive.

"Time to return z'e favour?" France said after licking off each cum coated finger individually.

"I think that idea is ridiculous," England huffed, crossing his arms and trying regain some dignity.

"Well z'en, maybe you should be punished," Francis apparently had been studying his surroundings, and come to the conclusion the ambiance liked this idea.

"Get out of my damn dungeon you bloody frog!"

But as France slowly undid his zipper, and pulled down his pants.

"Whut?"

"You don't seem to be upset," France looked down towards Arthur's lower regions.

In fact, that part of him wasn't upset, it was excited.

After a couple moments of awkward silence, Arthur realised there was no way out of it.

"I think I'll be doing the punishing _thankyouverymuch_," the words spit out with hate.

But France just smirked, getting his way in the end was all he came here to do.

"Oh wipe that bloody smirk of of your face," England hissed as he moved forward, much more confident in his strides, "Or I'll wipe it off for you."

Again France didn't reply, just dropped the smirk but still had a haughty look in his eye.

England didn't like this, and told him so.

"My apologies monsieur."

The confident Arthur scanned the room, planning his next moves as if it was a game of chess and not just a simple meaningless hook-up.

A pair of cold metal cuffs caught his attention, left over from one of his other meaningless flings, and so did a soft leather whip, smooth and worn and perfect.

But he needed a place to handcuff the annoying Frenchman too, and after finding such a place he couldn't help but sneer.

"Ready Frog?"

"Oui."

And then England felt fuller and better, and he moved full speed ahead; first move was a knight.

And there France struggled against the cuffs, surprised to be chained to a rusted pole, a foundation pole not a _stripper _pole may I add.

The flakes of rust chipped off at the friction, and watching his worst enemy attempt in vain to free himself made Arthur aroused, and he plunged forward again.

This was a small move, a pawn, simply a move to take up space while a greater strategy was formulating.

England was shoving three of his long fingers into France's mouth, waiting for the feeling of a tongue to tickle each digit.

He moved on, trailing the saliva covered fingers up and down Francis legs, feeling them shake slightly and goosebumps arise on his pale flesh. France was leaning against his once hated pole for support.

And slowly the digits reached an entrance, and Arthur's middle finger entered slowly,moving around in slight circles as it reached higher and higher into the body.

It danced across a bundle of nerves, making France shiver and the other man just continue.

Another finger was entered, then another, all stimulating that certain spot until it left it's owner moaning and crying out in need for _more, faster, _and _harder_.

Arthur removed them mercilessly, watching a pathetic Frenchman lift his right leg and trying to gain contact to his painful erection.

"Stop it."

"Mais s'il vous plait, je, veux qu'il sorte mauvaise**," France whimpered in a frenzy moving his leg across his body and rocking his hips in attempts to dry hump.

So Arthur took his opponents Queen, it was cruel and cold and uncalled for.

However he loved the lovely marks the whip gave, angry red lashes against pale skin, and even though France stopped moving immediately after the first hit, Arthur kept on going, aiming everywhere from his clothed torso to his bare ass, turning the plump flesh a crimson and causing tears to leap over the edges of light blue eyes.

"Please, please stop…"

"Cry you worthless wanker and maybe I will."

And more tears fell down but Arthur felt no compassion and didn't stop slapping the leather across France's body until both of them were limp, one boredem and one facing unconsciousness.

And England started all over again, sliding two fingers in this time to scissor and stretch, and when he was aroused and needy he went back to the whipping.

He took every piece but the King, stripping his foe of every value and all of his humanity until he was a bloody pulp lying on the ground with his hands raised to where the cuffs were.

Arthur stopped, casting the worn piece of fabric aside and sitting down on the ground, leaning in close enough for his whisper to be heard, "This is what happens when you try to play with me."

Maintaining eye contact Arthur stuck out his tongue and licked on the open cuts, slurping up the blood with lust glazing over his green orbs.

And soon Francis was responding with whimpers and moans and he felt lust taking him too.

Arthur finished several minutes later, cleaning of his lips with a back hand swipe and moving on for his favourite piece.

He was going to take the King.

He pulled limp legs over his shoulders, slightly sagging at the weight but managing.

Arthur felt no need to prep, feeling the hours of abuse was enough to open up the hole of his latest conquest.

With a solid thrust he was in, not waiting for the intruded to adjust he pulled all the way back out, and slammed back in, slapping his skin against France's.

"Ffff," A strangled sound came out of Arthur, feeling extremely close.

And he shifted, allowing himself to go deeper, to feel the tightness around ever centimetre of his member, and loving it.

And when he came, he didn't stop, riding his orgasm through all way, not caring if he ever once hit the magical spot on France.

He pulled out, planning on taking a shower, maybe eating some scones and having some tea, it didn't really matter.

He just won the game.

**And you can too! **

**All you need to do is review, as always with this story, review mine I'll review yours.**

*** OHIO FTW**

**** But please, I want it so bad. (google translate) **

**Leave suggestions of who you want to see!**

**See a mistake? Don't flame, just tell me and I'll fix it. Hated my ew gross fail smut? Yeah I did too. **

**PM me if you wanna hate…because I think a hateful review would make me cry D: **

**Next time on England's Sex Dungeon: A very polite Japanese man shows up at Iggy's door…dun dun dun. **

**(a suggestion from the amazing Grimm2…read her shiz if you're a Gorillaz fan) **


	3. Chapter 3

Infamous Basement

**Instalment three.**

They day was grey and cold.

The air reeked of pollution and people, and so did the city.

Arthur Kirkland avoided all of this by retreating to his house and habituating it like hermit.

But that was all ruined when he heard a soft knock.

Humphing, he slipped a piece of paper in between the pages of the book he was currently at and ventured over towards the door.

"Herro?"

"I'll be there in a second…" Now knowing who it was England approached the door quicker.

"And why are you here?" England sighed, finally face to face with his Japanese friend.

"It is the holidays, I thought you'd like company," the smile was slight, maybe it wasn't even there.

Arthur sighed again, hoping that he could avoid this whole "merry" business, December was for family, and he had none-well none that liked him anyways.

"Come in before you run up my heat bill."

This time you could see the smile, it was nice.

"Did you bring anything?" Arthur sat back down, asking the question as he opened his book.

"A small gift."

Green eyes focused themselves on the a tiny box held in front of them.

"I didn't get you anything," Arthur mumbled as he lifted the lid.

"I think it is something we could both enjoy."

The atmosphere changed, it was suddenly much more tense, and much more awkward.

"What the bleeding hell is a Cup Nude?" Arthur asked slowly, stunned as he held the container in his hand.

"I thought it could help you with your _problems_," Japan whispered, as if the Briton had pride left.

"What _problems_," He was hissing now, his face a beet red, daring his guest to say it.

"I think it would be best if I left now."

Japan tried to get up, but Arthur reached out an arm and yanked him back down.

"Say it."

"They just say-"

"Who is 'they'?"

"The other nations, mostly America-san," Kiku was staring at the ground now, embarrassed to be selling out his friends, but he knew this wasn't the time to mess with England.

"And what does _Alfred_ say?"

"It isn't just h-"

Arthur stopped him with a glare.

After a gulp, Japan continued, "They say you are lonely, and need some help with your sexual frustrations, and that is why you are bitter all the time."

"Oh well isn't that rich, those tossers," his voice was amused, disgusted, but Arthur held onto the cup, eying it with interest.

"Would you like for me to return it?"

That was enough for England to snap out of his trance.

"Oh-yes, yes of course."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive, it's bonkers, totally rubbish."

"You are hard," Japan said with enough apathy for it to be a causal "nice hair".

And with a quick dart to his lap, Arthur saw he was.

"Bloody hell!"

It was silent for a moment, neither knowing what to do any trying to figure out what the other was going to do.

Arthur gave in, "Down stairs."

"Okay."

The sun was setting now, only making it more grey and bleak, Arthur had a feeling he wouldn't be getting out much this holiday though.

He turn on the lights, amazed at how much dust had acquired in between the corners and torture devices.

"This is your basement?"

"I prefer the term dungeon."

It was silent yet again, Arthur trying to convince himself to just walk upstairs and convince Kiku this never happened.

"_Nude_ now."

Apparently his brain wasn't to persuasive.

"Are you sure?" Kiku's eyes were wide, not reading the room well enough to predict that.

"Yes now hurry."

And soon there was a pile of clothes on the ground, and a fidgeting naked body across from Arthur.

Japan had a nice figure, trim, not very tall, and his skin gave of an alluring glow, one that no European nation had.

"Are you going to join me?" the voice was shy, nervous.

"No."

"Over there, against that wall," Arthur pointed and waited.

"Will this hurt?" Kiku's voice was muffled as he faced the wall, placing his hands above his head and arching his back so his ass was pointed out.

"Probably."

Arthur slipped of his pyjama pants and boxers, moaning a bit as the air hit his throbbing member.

"Aren't you supposed to do something fir-AHH" His question turned into a scream as Arthur thrust himself in with no preparation and the only lube being a small about of pre-cum that had collected on his cock before he inserted himself.

"Probably," Arthur gasped at the warm, tight heat.

He paused for a moment, maybe genuinely concerned for Japan's well being, but that ended after that moment.

He pulled out slowly, watching the small amount of blood that he had drawn from his partner.

"Are you okay?" He asked, then leaned in and began nibbling on Kiku's ear as he pushed himself back in.

"No," the voice was choked with tears, _it hurt so bad_.

Arthur didn't respond, instead he focused his attention on hitting Japan's prostate, a spot that would turn that frown upside down.

"Oohh"

Found it.

He tried to make it better, and soon Kiku was weak, and his arms were sore as they pressed against the cool metal to keep himself in position. Arthur placed his hands on top of Japan's, supporting him, but also prohibiting him to get quicker realise by pumping his member.

"I-nggh-need-to"

Arthur hushed him, knowing what he meant but not granting it.

"This should be enough-for-you," England's breathing was becoming ragged, and forced. He felt a tightening in his belly, and knew what was about to happen.

He pulled himself out, spilling all over Japan's backside.

"Guess it wasn't enough," but he didn't sound sympathetic, just amused.

Until the crying started.

Tears large and clear fell onto the hard floor, staining it.

Then the begging.

"Please, don't leave me like this, please don't"

"Shhh"

But the whines didn't stop, so Arthur leaned in to solve the problem effectively by covering the complaining man's mouth with his own.

The Briton flipped the other boy over, capturing more of his lips and exploring his new territory, then, finally feeling bad enough, moved is hand down to pump Japan to climax.

"Go shower, you look awful."

And he did, with a tear streaked face and a bruised body, a white sticky mess all over his back and legs.

Japan walked upstairs, planning on finding the bathroom without help.

Arthur smiled at the way he limped.

****

They sat, drinking tea and leafing through pages of books read so many times it knew no chronological order.

"Thank you for visiting."

"No problem."

The sun was rising somewhere, and it was beautiful, finally breaking through the clouds and casting a pink glow.

"We can be alone together."

**Gahh! What the ef was that? **

**My excuses (all very true):**

**I wrote this in one sitting**

**I haven't eaten in eight hours**

**I had a mental break down this week**

**You know what will help?**

**REVIEWS.**

**As always with this story, if you are kind enough to review I'll return the favour and share the love with you :D**

**NEXT TIME ON: England's Sex Dungeon**

**What happens involving vodka and dungeons should stay secret, da?**

**A request from the ever humorous anonymous reviewer. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Infamous Basement**

**Starts off sorta serious...but it is not meant to be taken as something 'good'. Surh-ee-ush-lee**

"So, you are here because...?"

Arthur stared up at the unexpected guest.

"I ha_v_e run out of vodka. You have alcohol, da?"

Occasionally his ally, often times the cause of his nightmares, Arthur had no clue as to why

Ivan Braginski was at his door.

"Yes, I have alcohol, now please explain why you are here."

It was silent for a moment, Russia just smiling oblivious to the threatening backdrop of grey skies and lighting behind him.

"Oh for goodness sakes come in!" England hissed after an unholy amount of water had collected on his wood floors.

So he did, and the door was closed with a slam.

"Now what?" Arthur heaved, _if he honestly expected to just be able no march in here and demand vodka, well...he...uh..._.

And then the train wreck of thoughts stopped.

And plump, rosy checks were smashed against a crimson face, their lips pushing against each others as well.

Arthur struggled to get free but couldn't and just waited for it to be over.

Ivan shoved his tongue in eagerly, exploring the sides like a child with a new toy, not noticing his firm grip on Arthur was nearly suffocating him.

Finally, Russia grew tired of the kiss, and withdrew his mouth with a sickly _mmchh _and let go of the nearly lifeless England, not caring that he fell to the ground, like a child forgetting about an old toy, like a child upgrading to something better.

And that something was most definitely a-a-a-a-a-alcohol.

After rummaging through the cabinets, not caring about the mess left behind, he found a blue bottle filled with a lovely clear liquid.

He popped open the top, sniffing it in with a smile.

"Would you like some Arthur?"

I think you could hear the crickets now.

"HOLD ON A SECOND! Don't you hate me? Is that poison? Are you trying to kill me?"

But Russia simply smiled, as if that made it better or any less creepy.

"You little fucker..get out of here!" Arthur was walking towards him now, anger overpowering common sense.

"I said I wanted vodka. Now I am going to drink my vodka."

England sat there for a while. He stared into the purple eyes that seemed lifeless as the glared back from over the bottle.

"How long are you planning to stay?"

"Until the vodka is gone."

It wasn't the answer Arthur actually hoped for, so he got up and went to his room to work on his embroidered pillow he was making Alfred for Christmas.

After a few careful stitches his mind switched to Russia, wondering why he was in his kitchen, how long was he really going to be there, and what really made him come here instead of the grocery store.

With his mind else where it was inevitably that a finger or two would get pricked, but when he looked down he didn't expect a river of blood to stain the white fabric and nearly cover the orange lace.

"Shit!" 

He tossed the needle aside and got up in search for a band-aid.

Entering the room, he figured he'd see Russia.

But he did not expect Russia to be lying on the floor, bottle in hand, eyes closed, mouth semi open in a snore.

Well, expect the unexpected people.

__^J^_ _

"Ugh..." Russia moaned as he slowly came back to life.

He took the silence that followed as an opportunity to study his surroundings.

The room was cold and dimly lit, the walls were dark, and seemed to be made out of metal.

The ground was littered with toys, not the kid kind, the adult kind.

"Why am I handcuffed?"

"I will avenge the honour of Busby's Chair!"

"Are you talking about that pathetic chair I annihilated?"

England's face just flushed, and Russia took the time to notice he was holding a taser.

And was naked.

**What a zinger.**

**Seriously, who guessed that?**

**Screw foreshadowing, the fact that this is rated M, and it is complete smut. **

**Ya'll should be wide eyed and mouths should be agape.**

The Russian just smiled, and tried again, "By avenge do you mean have sex with me?"

England sort of just deflated, realising what he was about to do was stupid, but not having enough guts to stop, sort of like when you are walking the wrong way but you don't want to turn around and look like an idiot. So he filled the void with hate and moved foreword.

"You walk into my house, drink my beverages, stay unwelcome, and now you expect to be snarky. Dare say, you are a bigger git then America!"

Then Arthur put to use to the weapon in his hand, simply smirking as he watched the bigger, stronger man vibrate violently against the metal encasings around his wrist and ankled that held him suspending slightly in the air.

Drool pooled around Russia's mouth, and Arthur felt compassion and stopped, nonetheless delighted in the two marks left on pale skin.

"Are you ready then?" England asked the limp body.

"Ready for what?" It replied.

Arthur stuck out his hand, unzipping Ivan's pants with one hand and stroking his thigh with the other.

Once the troublesome denim was low enough for Arthur to reach the prize, he grabbed the quickly hardening member and caressed it through the underwear.

Which were totally whitey tighties and _not_ the manly boxers with sunflowers and lead pipes everyone expected.

"Do you enjoy massaging my penis?"

**Well what a mood killer.**

**I know, **_**penis**_** is awkward to read in a smut story.**

**I hope you weren't expecting to get off on this.**

Not replying he grabbed the scarf around Ivan's neck, pulling it off while slighting strangling him.

And then it tossed on the ground.

And the room was silent and felt colder then the cold it normally was.

"You have been naughty, I don't like it when people take away my scarf," Russia was smiling though, but his body became less _limp_ and more _superhuman_ and with a groan the handcuffs broke into pieces, falling to the ground.

Lets picture that in dramatic slo-mo.

You did?

Good.

And after the broken metal bits clanked on the ground, and Russia stood up to his full height, it was completely silent.

"Why, you wanker, now I'll have to buy a new pair of handcuffs."

And this time the taser wasn't merciful, it buzzed on long after the drool formed lakes, long after his eyes were closed.

__^J^_ _

"Uh-uh-nng..ngg."

Russia woke up to the sounds of pants, desperate moans, and cries.

He looked over and saw Arthur running on the treadmill.

"Fucking...exercise..."

He looked down and saw the scarf around his neck, his skin perfect of any recent scars, and his clothes still on.

He smiled, _that was one messed up dream_.

"Thanks for the drinks. You enjoyed it, da?"

He didn't wait for an answer, but when he got up to leave, god damn his ass was sore.

**Oh yeahhh, crappy stories FTW.**

**No?**

**Okay...**

**Please review.**

**I'll review yours if let me now you read this by reviewing...**

**Oh, also sorry about the lack of actual smut and the surplus of annoying commentary by yours truly.**

**I blame my Russia because I really can't write about a sexual Ivan when my Russia is so...same-gender-as-me-kinda-thing **_**not**_** that I don't like homosexuality. I am a YAOI fangirl after all.**

**So, who's next? I run off of suggestions...because I only have two more ideas, and after that this story goes dormant.**

**And yes I know this Russia sucks. I honestly can't write him. But holy fizzlenets, practice makes perfect practice makes perfect sense to meeeee**

**Golly gee I love that song. **

**Okay have a good week(end) guys!**

**Peace, love, and Joe's Crab Shack.**

**HarponMOO is out =D **


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning: how the frruuccckk did I manage to get some USUK fluff in hur'?**

**and the usual crappy writing, now with a bonus! Annoying comments of mine...in the story...yah.. truefax's...I googled it. **

England enjoyed being alone.

That was a fact that was rarely disputed, though often used in teasing wars.

So why was his doorbell ringing in the middle of a perfectly rainy afternoon?

And why was he so calmly walking to the door, as if he expected it?

"Hello Italy," he greeted, then gestured for the short brunet to step inside.

"Oh wow! Your house is so nice! I like your carpet!"

It was not an extraordinary house, two stories and a full basement.

The carpet was not special, just a crisp white.

"Err..thanks?"

Italy didn't want a chance for awkward conversation, and walked further inside, "Have you boughten the things I asked for?"

"Err, yes." England's face was bright red and he cursed himself for that.

"Good, then we can get started."

And they did.

Arthur led Felicianco into a dark room, the ground wasn't carpeted anymore and their shoes made quiet slaps on the floor.

Then Arthur turned the light in his kitchen on.

"So get out water, the salt, the pan, the pasta, and the spoon," Italy listed off ingredients while poking around the cupboards, checking the status of the room where the infamous food England created was made.

England was just returning to his normal ivory colour, but felt it necessary to say, "Thanks for giving me cooking lessons, I truly appreciate it."

"Oh it is fine, Dotsiu said I should. Because you want to impress America, it is good doing things for love," Italy had a dreamy look on his face, but it was slapped of a second later when a smoke alarm sounded.

"I didn't do anything!" England was frustrated, _weren't you supposed to turn the stove on to boil water?_

"Don't turn that on until you place the pan of water on it," Italy reprimanded lightly.

"I'm sorry."

Then he added:

"And **iamnoht-dointhis-foramereca-juhstsoyano**" The words came out of England's mouth muffled and barely recognisable.

"Ve, I can't hear you when you speak so mixed up."

"I said: _I'mnotdoingthisfor America justsoyouknow._" England repeated, with a drunken slur to his words.

"Is this a game? I give up! Just don't hurt me!" Italy's eyes were wide in fear of getting punished.

"No, it is not a game, I just wanted to tell you something," England felt his ears burning, his face was on fire.

"Okay then. Ve, let's boil some water properly."

And they did, Italy's small hand guided England's in the stirring of noodles, in the cutting of tomatoes, in the flipping of chicken.

"So what are we making again?" The Briton had warmed up. Sure, he was still embarrassed, but the look he imagined on all their faces when he showed up with this delicious smelling-looking-tasting dish would be priceless.

"Itsa called Fettuccine Parmigiana."

"Oh, sounds fancy.." England smiled, mixing the sauce with relish.

And maybe to much relish, because it flew out of the pan and on to Italy's face.

Okay so maybe _flew_ wasn't the best word to describe it.

How about jumped?

No...

Erm, AH! I've got it.

And maybe to much relish, because it sloshed out of the pan and onto Italy's face.

"Oi, sorry about that lad."

But Italy's eyes just grew wide and his tongue slipped out of his mouth and swept across his chin and cheek, licking the deep red sauce off of his face.

"Ve, it's very good England."

That pink muscle dancing around the lightly tanned skin. The huge brown eyes and the look of ecstasy on his face.

_Shit_ was he getting a boner for Northern Italy?

"Ready to continue?"

"No. I want to do something else. Can you come downstairs Italy?"

"Ve sure! Are we going to draw now? I can teach you how to make a picture for a loved one."

"No, though we might play a game..." England let it hang in air, not telling more than he needed too.

And that was enough for Italy, Arthur opened the door of his basement and led the way down.

"Don't you think it's dark in here?" the voice was a hushed, it was frightened.

"I think it's perfectly fine."

"Don't you think it's cold down here?" Felicianco shivered at the moment, maybe for effect.

"I think the temperature is quiet lovely."

"Don't you think it's-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP ITALY." England was frustrated, sure, but he was also horny and those feelings didn't combine well.

"I'm sorry! I-ah-give up! Please don't hurt me! I-ah don't want to die! Please!"

"You won't die, now just go stand over there and take your clothes off," England pinched the bridge of his noes, feeling like a father and annoyed at that fact.

"Why?"

"Just do it."

"Ve, I duh'n wanna," Italy's eyebrows were ceased in confusion.

"Strip."

Crying, he did so.

"Oh, don't be so pathetic!"

"But this is only for a loved one to see!"

England didn't care. Italy had asked for it, with his soft hair, alluring smell, and delicious lips. No, Arthur Kirkland didn't love North Italy. But he did lust for him.

And once the smaller nation stood nude and limp, Arthur approached him. Pressing their bodies together, he attached soft leather ties to his wrist, keeping them levitated by the hooks from the ceiling. **Preparation people, it's important.**

He used the another pair of leather ties to bind Italy's ankles together.

He went rummaging in a box, but once he returned with a metal gag ball Italy became verbal again, "No! I-ah donh't want that in my mouth! I give up! I surrender! Please, I don't wanna die! Itsa gonna hurt! Please don't put it in my mouth!"

"Shut up."

And he did, only because the gag ball was shoved in between his lips and quickly fastened.

But after the initial shock strangled noises of desperations and muffled helplessness filled the room.

_Will he __**ever**__ be quiet_? Arthur had soon found himself wondering.

So what he did next was totally just and called for.

"MHFF VVHH FFHHHHD MF DDF DDF"

**Yes, England did 'touch Italy's 'pee pee'' for those of you who can't speak muffle. **

"You seemed to like it."

Green eyes focused on the rapidly growing member in his hands, brown eyes focused on anywhere but down.

"I'm going to teach you a lesson in perseverance. Are you ready?"

Felicianco shook his head rapidly from side to side. **Uhm, ever heard of whiplash?**

"Not the correct answer."

And soon a bony digit was encased in Italy's wonderfully tight, warm cavern.

"MFF MFF MFF."

Drool was flowing down the small iron ball now, and England fought repulsion.

**Lets turn disgust into arousal pplz**

Another finger was added.

England mused himself with the thought of how he was fully dressed still, but did nothing to change it.

The fingers spread out in a V shape...

"MMMMDDDDD"

...then they were crossed, as if for good luck...

"FFFHHHHH"

...then they reached upwards, tickling a bundle of nerves...

"NNGGGGHHH"

...they had found the right spot, and began thrusting in and out, thrashing into the prostate, abusing it, using it...

"NFH NGF NHG."

Then the were taken out, exiting with unappealing _pluhp._

"Well Italy, you survived that," but when Arthur looked up he saw tears streaming down his face, arms sagging in their hold, and an overall look of defeat on Felicianco's face.

"Think of the great lover you will become...for Romano," Italy made a face of disgust at that, "for Germany." Italy liked that idea, and opened his eyes with a newfound determination.

Now, England's pants were off. And he was inside of Italy.

And it was wonderful, and it felt magical, it was everything he had waited for. OH but even if I fall in looovee again with soooomeone neeww **Selena Gomez moment...sorry...**

And with awkward rocking of his hips, England came too soon, and pulled out, leaving the uke nation unfulfilled and bound and gaged.

"Well, goodnight Italy."

_(^-^)_

"Thank you for the cooking lesson," They were outside, it was slightly chilly but England's face turned red after he spoke. Feliciano's hair was ratty, his checks where covered in dried tears and his other checks where covered in cum.

"Thank you for my lesson as well," and then Italy limped off into the sunrise.

**Reviews+you guys= awesome at it!**

**Thanks so much for all the support ya'll!**

**As always, review mine I'll review yours! **

**Next time on: Of Annoying Comments of One Lonely Fangirl and Fail Smut:**

**What rhymes with dash and carries pocket knives?****  
><strong>**And what happens when you add him and hot cocoa to England's infamous basement?**

**On a side note, there is a poll on my profile for my EPIC story I iz workin on! (it will be beta'd too, unlike this mess) and if you could simply clickity the button I'd love you forever and ever and ever!****  
><strong>

**So who'd you like to see on here? No North **_**America**_**n suggestions yet *sniffles* ::pushes UsUK fangirl-self into closet::**

**Yeah..**

**harponMOO is out :D**


	6. Chapter 6

England wasn't in the mood for tea, and as rare as that was, it pertained true on that sultry summer night.

It wasn't lemonade or water that would quench his thirst.

No, it was something sweeter.

Something warmer.

Something thicker.

It was hot chocolate.

Get your mind out of the gutter kids!

**HarponMOO is back!(from the nanowrimo month and the road of uninspiration, so enjoiii)**

**warnings: hot cocoa smex, some ooc (sorry), and crappy writing**

So there he sat, fumbling around in the kitchen, looking for a packet of Nestlé, preferably the kind with mini marshmallows, but that didn't matter as long as it was Nestlé.

Do you know the origin of the Nestlé company?  
>Do you?<br>Hmm?  
>According to wikipedia, it was from the start of an anglo-swiss alliance, and you know what, Arthur was okay with that.<p>

Sure, it was awkward to sit alone in a chair drinking hot cocoa on a summer evening. The kind of night when stars are sprinkled across the sky like a forever summer kid's freckles, but you stay inside anyways.

Those kind of twilights.

That kind of chocolate.

It was as if by magic is door was knocked on.

"Humph, wonder who it is..." Arthur really didn't wonder. He hoped.

Silence reflected in two sets of green eyes, speak wasn't needed.

It was rare these met ups, but both knew what to do.

Lips on lips, fumbling hands, grabbing onto each other.

_Rush rush rush _

Arthur pulled apart, only to let his guest move gruffly inside, eyes darting across the house in a quick bout of curiosity. Moistened lips were awkwardly licked, "Uhm, what are you here for?"

Vash shrugged his shoulders. Lily was out, out with Iceland or something like that. It wasn't like he didn't get invited. But he didn't like people, well, when they could be avoided that was good. Enough rambling... he looked back into England's eyes, desperate for another kiss, another touch. It was granted, and they stumbled back towards the couch.

Vash's lips were nibbled on, tasted, then pried open with a swipe from a tongue and soon his mouth was being devoured. Strong hands clung onto him tightly, pulling him closer until there was no space between them except for their clothes.

Speaking of that, the clothes needed to go, now.

So Arthur broke apart, rejoicing in the needy whine he heard.

"Downstairs?" Arthur whispered, his face flushed, his voice low.

A quick nod.

A mad dash, down the steps, pushing the other into the darkness, eager to explore once well-known parts.

Articles once covering body parts laid shamelessly on the floor, lust-filled eyes brightened the room.

"I've missed your touch," Switzerland blushed, embarrassed at his moment of truth, and tried to forget about it. But it wouldn't be like a gentlemen to let someone go so easily.

"Really now? How bad do you want it?" England leans forward on his tippy toes, level with the Swiss.

Still, Vash was silent and red faced.

There was no point to it though, his member was slightly raised, his nipples hard.

"I could go upstairs then, I bet my _hot chocolate _getting cold."

Switzerland didn't want that. No, that did not appeal to him, so he turned off the pride button and opened his mouth, "I want you to fuck me."

England just got closer, pushing their chests together, their erections rubbing together, instantly growing harder.

"Mhm," A low growl came from Vash's throat, exciting Arthur more. Lips locked again, no struggle for dominance, willing submission.

With a noisy slurp, England pulls away.

Switzerland knew want to do, and obediently got on his knees, a little scared about disappointing the man above him, however with a push from the Brit's hand, he became more sure.

It throbbed in his mouth, and he tightened his lips, bobbing his head up and down. Switzerland let his tongue venture out, and played with the tip of the member while his mouth tried to take more and more in. Too much.

Tears pricked his eyes as his gag reflex kicked in, yet England's hand remained on the blond's head, pushing him into the warm member, not letting the Swiss get much needed air.

His moans and struggles just added more pleasure, vibrating and moving quicker then normal. Soon, England found himself releasing into Switzerland's mouth, and pulled out, disgusted at the red, puffy eyes. White cum trickled down his mouth, and he licked it up slowly, praying England wouldn't lose interest in him from the one mistake.

"Stretch yourself, I've got better things to do," And Arthur walked upstairs with as much dignity as a nude, flaccid man could.

England didn't actually have anything better to to, he just sat in his reading chair drank his beverage with a frown, it had become cold.

He didn't want to watch any television, Dr. Who and Top Gear were on a hiatus. He had just finished _Midsummer's Night Dream_, and it hung around the living room. He decided to pick it up and flipped through the pages, looking for his favourite part.

_I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell_

_To die upon the hand I love so well_

His hopeless romantic side was swooning a bit, until he coughed, realised he was naked and went back downstairs to check on his guest. Arthur's mug of half drunken cocoa was gripped absentmindedly in his hand.

Switzerland sat on the edge of a torture bed, the hard metal cool against his pale thighs, which were spread wide open, shameless.

Two fingers were held stationary as his hips moved up and down on them, with each thrust his member twitched.

"Unf, unf, unf." Pre cum covered his painfully hard member, but he wouldn't touch in, focused on the task of stretching himself out, preparing himself for England. Those vibrant green eyes, plump and rosy lips. He was in a lust craze, and only an awkward cough from the side of the room could bring him out of it.

"Er."

"I was just doing as you told me," The Swiss looked at the Brit's lips as he spoke, not caring about manners or timidness at the moment.

"I see," England ventured closer, until he was leaning against the metal table, his heavy breath ghosting over Vash's ear.

"Are you ready for me?"

Shallow swallows.

England took to licking and biting the pale neck before him, _persuasion_.

"Yes, oh god yes."

England set down mug, and pushed the other man down roughly, keeping his legs spread and his hips slightly elevated.

"No lube?"

"No gun?" That shut Switzerland up, and he tried to think of how good it was going to feel not how it was going to be a _bitch_ to deal with in the morning.

But England had a crazy idea. He reached down and grabbed his mug, then poured a little of the cooled liquid over his member, rubbing it around and paying specially attention to his tip until he became as hard as he desired.

Then he pushed into Vash, the warm heat much more pleasing then his mouth. The moans escaping from the Swiss's lips were even better.

"Mfph, mfph." He began to rock up and down, trying to feel more friction, more pressure. He had been stretched well and now wanted to be filled. He was flopping around the table like some fish who thought he was out of water but really wasn't and was just confused. Arthur couldn't help but smirk.

"Is it that good?"

Green daggers, a mirroring smirk.

"You should try it some time."

"I prefer the view from up here."

Then a certain spot was hit and all hope for conversation was tossed overboard.

"Uff, yesss."

England felt the heat grow hotter, the pressure changed with quick contracting and loosening, Vash trying to last longer as his nerves were pounded into.

But Arthur couldn't, and with a few sloppy, deep thrusts, he spilled his seed into Vash, pulling out and lying next to him. Nothing romantic though, like hand holding, or snuggling, or kisses that were soft.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ #-_-#~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ugh, I'm getting too bloody old for this," England murmured drinking his Earl Grey at the table. He was perfectly fine, besides the achey back and pounding headache.

_Pounding. _

Arthur smiled at that, then finished his tea.

Well, some things were to good to give up on entirely.

**Yeah, not so good :/ I sowwy, what a horrible way to welcome this story back to life. **

**Anyway, I did nanowrimo this year. Holy cow, 141 pages plus an epilogue. It was great people, great! **

**Editing is going to be an ass though :(**

**Anyone else do nano this year? leave me a comment with your word count if you want :) you'll get a one-shot(if you want, I dunno, I'm not **_**that**_** amazing. Maybe you will just want a cyber-cookie instead) ^_^**

**So next time on: England Tops All (Also known as Whoring England Out):**

**Smex of the tsunderes. **

**And guess what, **_**no potato eating bastards allowed**_**! **

**Hehe, guess who :P**

**Well, hopefully I didn't fail you.**

**As usual, review mine, I'll review yours. **

**So, apparently nobody wanted my love, I only got one clickity click of the button :( But, thank you one person, you inspire me **

**/**is shot

**HarponMOO is out :)**


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